You’re on a scenic, tropical island. Why visit plantation ruins? Fair question. I suppose to see some of the heritage of the island, good and bad. Well, that and the fact that both of us like historic buildings.
Given its size, there are several plantation ruins on Long Island, but we only had the car for 24 hours, so we set out to find the one that supposedly has buildings still standing to the roof line.
Okay, so let’s get the history part out of the way. We mention it because it’s kind of interesting:
Following the American Revolution, about 1790, loyalist British slave owner, Abraham Adderley, moved to Long Island with his slaves in tow to take possession of the 700 acres he was granted by the English King. Uh? your side loses and the king gives you land on a tropical island? Anyway, by 1820, Abraham’s Long Island born son William had enlarged it to 2500 acres (not sure they asked anyone for permission), where they raised cotton and livestock – cattle, sheep, and work horses.
When William’s son, James, chose not to claim possession (kids, right?), William sold much of it to the plantation’s master and herdsman, Uriah T. Knowles and his son Alonzo, both from Long Island, at one shilling per acre (and no one objected).
The plantation prospered until problems began when Uriah disinherited Alonzo over his choice of second wife, who was “dark-skinned.” Things went downhill from there.
A terrible hurricane hit in 1927, destroying the buildings and ruining the bay, you’ll see how later.
In 1935, bummed for some reason, Uriah slit his own throat at the plantation’s dock. Having disinherited Alonzo, Uriah’s other four children inherited the property. Those heirs, however, didn’t want a plantation/working farm, so it slowly ceased functioning.
Many relatives of the owners and slaves are still living on Long Island.
Background out of the way, let’s find what’s left of this plantation.
Aha! There’s the sign! Totally hidden by the dusty shrubs, you’ll miss it traveling south, but it’s easy to spot once you turn around and come at it heading north.
Don’t ask how we know.
After turning off the main road, we traveled a route that, by the end, is a “road” in name only. It was too bouncy to even photograph the last rocky parts. (You’ve heard the old joke about what’s the toughest car ever made? A rental…)
Finally, “You have arrived at your destination.” (Check your teeth.)
Hmm. I don’t see any ruins. Do you? 
The sign points right. Guess it’s time to start walking. That’s what remains of the bay on the left. Correct, virtually no water. 
Down the beach a ways, there’s another, dare we call it, “sign” pointing into the brush.
Followed by more walking and additional signs. Hey, at least these signs look official, like we’re actually going to find a plantation ruin (eventually), maybe?
After the stone wall, it wasn’t much further before, “There it is, in the overgrowth. Finally!” Stone buildings, made for short people!
Now for the trek back to the car. The stones are tricky, but I can make tracks on the soft, woodland section of the trail. And, thank you, Mother Nature, for the improvised sun parasol.
It’s amazing to think the plantation operated on a navigable bay that the 1927 hurricane rapidly, and apparently permanently, changed to nothing but silty shallows.
Back to our chariot for the day, which, to it’s credit (and Todd’s ever-so-careful driving), made it down here. Fingers crossed we can get back!
Obviously we made it back to the main road and the boat. Just in time to catch another sunset blocked by low-lying western clouds. Still windy as heck for a few days, so Sunday, we’re going to try for an Easter sunrise on the bow. Perhaps the east will be more cooperative. Happy Easter!
Our Travels 